Are You Going To Renaissance Faire?
by VampirePaladin
Summary: It is the early 90s and America has taken it upon himself to be a brother figure to the newly independent Belarus. For some bonding he decides to take her to a ren faire.


Belarus covered her head with the pillow as a barrier against the offensive sunlight. She was bound and determined to ignore it and stay in bed. She burrowed deeper into the overly soft blankets.

"That's me in the spotlight, losing my religion," a voice sang poorly. It drifted upstairs to her room. The American accent was almost offensive to her ears. Even pulling the pillow tighter onto her face did not help to drown out what could only be considered good singing in some backwards parallel universe.

She threw off the blankets. The pillow hit the wall. Her bare feet sunk into the peach carpet as she got out of bed. When she stood up the hem of her white night gown was down around her ankles. Her hair was going in every possible direction and even some impossible directions.

Belarus stormed down the stairs and into the kitchen. America stood there, fully dressed, wearing an apron and that abomination was still spewing forth from his mouth. He had a spatula in hand and stood in front of a stove.

"Your singing is horrid."

"Good morning, Belarus." America smiled at her.

Ever since she had moved out of Russia's house, he had decided to take it upon himself to be a surrogate brother figure to her. Of course he had decided this completely on his own without even consulting her about it. It was annoying. She did not know why she had agreed to stay at his house for awhile for "bonding." The only possible explanation was that she had been drinking when he had suggested the idea.

She dropped into a chair next to the table. The smell of eggs and pig drifted over to her. Well, she would not object to being fed breakfast at least.

"So, I have a plan for today! You are going to love it!"

"I doubt that." So far he had made her go to a baseball game, bowling, a concert, a picnic and go to Disney. Well, she had not minded the trip to Disney. That was top secret information that she was not going to divulge to him.

"We are going to a special fair." He sat a plate in front of her.

Belarus picked up her fork and started to eat the food. She ate the food without a word. America sat opposite to her and had another plate with at least twice as much food. It was made more amazing because her portion was not small.

"So hurry up and get ready, cause I want to be there when they open."

She took her time eating. Belarus left him to clean up as she went back upstairs. It took over an hour for her to shower, get dressed and to prepare her hair. She came downstairs in a lace trimmed, yellow dress and white sandals with straps. Of course she had a matching bow in her hair. The overall effect was a summer version of her normal clothing only with short sleeves instead of long ones.

"Come on." He grabbed her hand and pulled her outside to the car.

She did not speak the entire drive. He sang along to the radio. Belarus was honestly considering either cutting out his tongue or her ears. There was a possibility of doing both to make extra sure she would not have to hear him sing anymore.

America turned the wheel and pulled off the paved road and onto a dirt one. They bounced around a little as they came to a grassy field where teenagers in bright orange vests directed them where to park.

Belarus looked around with disinterest. Her eyes swept over a wall. She started looking at the trees before her gaze switched back to the wall when it registered what she saw. It was a wooden wall that led to a large gate like she would have seen in an old fort back in Europe. She looked from the gate, to America and back again.

"What is this?"

"A Renaissance Fair! I thought you would be homesick, so a little slice of Europe in the New World."

"You are aware Europe isn't like that now?"

"Of course I do. But this is more fun."

The car was parked and turned off. The two got out and began to stroll toward the gates. There were people dressed like lords, ladies, peasants and gypsies outside greeting people. Belarus ignored a man in tights as he called her a "fair maiden." They had to stop at small hut to get their tickets before they could walk through the relatively grand gates.

Off to the left where stands with every kind of food imaginable. Going straight was a line of stalls. Vendors tried to sell their goods to visitors in t-shirts and shorts. Over the noise of musicians, shoppers, hawkers and nobility was the unmistakable noise of metal on metal.

Belarus started following the noise. America's long legs easily kept up with her. Soon she found herself at a large square field. It was bordered by a short fence and crowds pressed up against the wooden barrier. Every time the sound of metal rang out there would be a cheer by one group or another.

"I can't see." She really wanted to see. Belarus turned and looked at America.

"Here." He squatted down low.

Belarus climbed onto his shoulders. He grabbed onto her legs as he straightened up, lifting her over the crowds. She almost fell backwards but grabbed onto his head.

"If you turn your head, I'll slit your throat."

"Yes, ma'am." He did not doubt she would do it.

Now, Belarus could see the duel between the two men in armor. Her eyes were riveted to the two men as they beat against their weapons and armor. They were of course holding back to not seriously hurt each other. It did not matter. Whenever one of them got a good hit on the other she would cheer without even thinking about it. The match ended when one of them was disarmed.

As the crowds dispersed she got off of his shoulders. "That was acceptable."

"They have jousting later today."

"We will come back for that."

Belarus began to lead him around. They watched performances, in particular any with fighting, and they went from stand to stand. She was far more excited and enjoying herself then she would admit. For lunch they had soup in bread bowls. They finished their meal and resumed visiting the stands.

They came across a stand the sold weapons. A man that looked suspiciously like England with a moustache was selling them. According to what he was telling another customer, he was a blacksmith and had made all of them himself.

Belarus studied each item intently. She kept on coming back to the same short sword. It was well made and would go nicely with her knife.

"Do you like that?" America asked.

"Yes."

"How much is it?"

"One hundred fifty dollars." The man even sounded like England.

America pulled his wallet out and started to count bills. He counted a second time before putting them in the hand that was held out. The vendor counted again before nodding at Belarus. She was well ahead of both of them and already had the short sword.

"Thanks, Ame- customer."

America nodded at the man that was certainly not England with a fake mustache as he hurried to catch up with Belarus. They were getting close to missing the beginning of the jousting. Belarus rushed ahead of America and just barely made it in time for the start.

She cheered as loud and long as a fan at a football match (either American or soccer). Belarus clutched her short sword close as one of them was thrown from the horse. The other knight dismounted and they continued the battle on foot. Some people in the crowd left, she was rooted to the spot.

As she watched the jousting, America watched her. Belarus was smiling. She was sort of pretty when she smiled like that.

The jousting ended far too soon. It was beginning to get dark. America and Belarus began to return to the car. Belarus kept on moving slower and slower. She was not ready to go back to America's house yet.

"You know, they are open tomorrow too?"

"We will come back tomorrow."

"It's a date."


End file.
